Denial
by ChubbyBunny
Summary: Vegeta is a street-wise lawyer who is hired on with Capsule Corp by the gorgeous scientist and co owner Bulma Briefs. A single picture taken by Vegeta sets in motion events that confuse, enlighten, and may just put the two of them in danger. Rated M for language and adult situations.
1. chapter 1

Bzzt.

Vegeta's fingers stilled over his laptop keys, eyes sliding to his now illuminated phone screen.

It was her, "Hey hot stuff. What you doin'? ;)"

He grunted, rubbing the tired eyelids under his glasses. Vulgar woman. Had she no shame? He'd only been working at Capsule Corp for about a year and she was already way too friendly. Didn't she know he had better things to do? Like, hm, save their asses from a lawsuit recently filed by a rival company? Vegeta knew he should just ignore her, go back to typing and try to not think about aqua-colored eyes and slender legs, but Bulma Briefs was persistent.

The phone buzzed again: "I have sandwiches."

"Why do I keep doing this to myself?" Vegeta wondered as he hit the elevator button to the lab. He shouldn't give into her. He had way more productive shit to do than entertain a spoiled heiress. The song playing over the loud speaker was some kind of grating pop music, and it did not help in quelling his agitation. Huffing, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the elevator wall. At least the dress code at Capsule Corp was lax. Suits were itchy.

The numbers flashing the descent of the elevator into the lower levels of Capsule Corp mocked him. Bulma's private lab was in the basement, far away from the prying eyes of the other scientists employed here. While the "regular" people worked on mundane everyday things, Bulma's work was top secret and hidden behind numerous keypads and doors. Every time he made the trip to the lab under her request he'd feel the increasing amount of nausea and primal surge to run as far away as he possibly could. Feelings were horrible, unnecessary things that only got in the way-

The elevator doors slid open, and there she stood, sub sandwiches in hand and beaming at him.

There was always that cliche moment in films where time stood still, the handsome protagonist locking eyes with a beautiful woman from across the room. The both of them knowing instinctively that this person would change their world forever. For Vegeta, this had happened the first time he'd ever met her.

And it only got worse every time she'd cross his path.

The air around elevator was heavy; Bulma was covered in grease, long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen. Her lab coat was stained and open revealing a black tank top and blue denim shorts. She was a vision, the perfect woman...

Which is why Vegeta scowled and snatched the sandwich out of her hand, brushing past her shoulder and not giving her a second glance as he powered towards the lab door.

He heard her huff in agitation, her footsteps echoing in the hall behind him as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides, "UM, you're welcome!"

"I didn't ask you to buy me lunch." He grumbled, still walking forward and already ripping into the wax paper keeping him from the sandwich.

A low whistle came from her direction. Vegeta paused, turning around with an annoyed stare.

Bulma was surprisingly close to him, within arms reach and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, "I hate it when you go, but I love watching you leave. You should wear jeans more often."

"Wha-damnit woman I'm going to sue you for sexual harassment!" Vegeta felt his cheeks flame red, "why do you insist on being so pervy? Have you no shame?"

Bulma laughed, "Not when it comes to you!" She reached up and gently pulled the glasses from his face, putting them on instead, "I didn't know you wore glasses!"

Left eye twitching, he took back the eyewear and tucked them into his breast pocket, "Not that it's any of your business, but my eyes get tired cleaning up all the messes around here."

"Pffft," Bulma rolled her eyes, walking past Vegeta and tapping her code into the keypad, "What I was going to say is that they make you look smart."

"Well, of course they-Hey!"

Bulma giggled, waving him inside the lab, "Hurry up grumpy. I'm starving."

He devoured the first sandwich within moments of settling himself on the swivel chair near Bulma's desk, she already handing him a second one. She knew well enough by now that despite Vegeta's shorter stature that he could eat anyone under the table. He'd had Ju Jitsu practice the night before and his hunger was especially fierce today.

Bulma's own sandwich lay unattended beside her, still primly wrapped as she pulled a pencil out of her coat pocket and carefully followed the lines of the ruler she had placed against a large blueprint nearly engulfing her whole workspace. Vegeta chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he watched her work, "What's that?" He asked around the mouthful.

"Hm? Oh, I made the modulator in the space pod too small. It wont accept the amount of wires needed to actually propel the dumb thing. I'm just adjusting the pod accordingly." She continued to measure, her firm bare calves teasing him as she shifted footing.

"Hmpf, some genius." He teased.

"Hey bucko," Bulma wagged the pencil at him, still not looking in his direction, "it's beautiful, stunning, amazing genius to you. And don't you forget it." she went back to the blueprint, getting absorbed into her work.

Vegeta was only slightly irritated. If she wasn't going to engage with him, then why was he even here? She could have easily dropped the sandwiches off at his office, but no. Instead he was sitting in near silence watching the prodigy of Capsule Corp doodle. He had at least three pending lawsuits against this crazy company he had to deal with, and being treated like a personal assistant was definitely not in his job description. The anger within him was building, threatening to end his patience then and there until...

...She smiled at him.

He hadn't caught her staring, didn't even realize that she had stopped working to watch him.

Bulma tilted her head, a free tendril of aqua hair escaping her messy bun and brushing down her slender neck, "What?" She asked. Heart thundering, and before he could stop himself, Vegeta reached out and tucked that wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Bulma blinked, cheeks flushing an obscenely pretty shade of pink.

Clearing his throat, Vegeta crossed his arms across his broad expanse of chest and glared at the floor, "It was pissing me off," he grumbled, "the hair, I mean. I'm going to buy you some proper hair clips so that way you don't look like a damn mess. It's a health hazard around here anyways."

"O-oh," Bulma smiled, "don't worry about it. I've uh, got plenty of them at home. Thanks though. Nice to know you care."

"I don't!" Vegeta barked, surprising himself with his own level of volume, "It just, its-"

The damn woman snickered, shaking her head. That same tendril of hair came loose, almost taunting him to touch it again, "Whatever you say hot stuff." She smiled at him again, and she went back to her blueprint, once again getting lost in her own mind.

How did he not piss her off? How did she even stand to be in his presence? There was a reason Vegeta was alone; and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't his fault most of the time. Now there was this beautiful woman (incredibly out of his league) who not only put up with his permanently aloof attitude, but had gotten him this job. He'd owned his own law firm, but it was really just a small studio in a shitty area of town. Business usually consisted of petty crimes and at least attempting to get reduced sentences for the scum of society. It really didn't matter to Vegeta who he was representing as long as it paid the bills. He'd been called in for a gang deposition for the Icejin and somehow Bulma had heard about him from there. He was called into her fancy office wearing a second hand suit and had wanted to melt into the floor. From the way her father and other members had looked at him he was sure he'd be kicked out. Vegeta didn't mince words, and had told the fifteen people sitting at that long interview table exactly how he felt about their methods of defending themselves.

Shitty. It was all shitty. How could they look themselves in the mirror when all they did was pay people out for lawsuits that were unjustified? How had they not gone bankrupt? Why was a company so willing to fail wanting to hire him? What was the point? A mouse fart could have been heard after his rant, the faces of all the old men at the table sallow and horrified.

He knew he'd done it then; had ruined his chances of ever having a good client.

Fuck.

Vegeta had turned to leave when he saw a blue haired woman standing in the doorway looking amused, "And where do you think you're going tiger? You're starting right now."

"B-Bulma!" Dr. Briefs had stammered, "This young man had made it quite clear that he doesn't wish to associate with us-"

Bulma's blue eyes narrowed, and she peered around Vegeta's shoulder to grin at her father, "Daddy, he is JUST who we need."

"B-but princess-"

"Nice to meet you," the woman had held her hand out to Vegeta, "I'm Bulma Briefs, co founder of Capsule Corp and head scientist. It's a pleasure to have you as the newest employee. You're office is down the hall, it's the door right next to mine. You start immediately."

Stunned, Vegeta shook her hand and she winked coyly, "Nice to have someone who will get things done. And you're cute to boot."

And that was how this whole crazy thing started. Because this certifiably insane, stunningly beautiful genius and business mogul had had given him a chance when all his life he'd been told no. They're upbringings couldn't have been more different, and yet here he was. Watching her work was like watching a painter, completely in their element. He had a thought that disturbed him and caused him pause, but was still not enough to stop him.

Vegeta pulled out his smart phone, pretending to check emails when in reality he was opening his camera app.

This was wrong. He could get in so much trouble. But if one day she got sick of him and kicked him out on the street and he never saw her again, he wanted to always remember her like this: Leaned over her desk, blue eyes fixated on her own genius taking shape and stunningly gorgeous despite not even trying. Vegeta hit the button and captured a single silenced photo before quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket.

Bulma kept working, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. Vegeta pretended to glance around the room, then noticed the still unopened sandwich beside her. He knew she wouldn't eat unless forced to at this point. Sighing, he stood and went to her side. Bulma glanced at him questioningly as he plucked the pencil from her hand, instead thrusting the sandwich into it, "Eat." He said firmly. Blue eyes blinked, but Bulma obliged, finally sitting and unwrapping her lunch. Vegeta nodded, before turning and walking out of the lab doors.

He'd stare at that photo for minutes at a time in his office behind closed doors for the rest of the work day and even months after. It reminded him of her kindness, and it caused stirrings in his belly he didn't know possible. There was no chance with her, Vegeta knew. So, this picture and dreams were all he had. He was okay with that. This single snapshot of a moment in time was his little secret. She'd never even know.

Besides, what harm could one little photograph do?


	2. Chapter 2

Candlelight flickered across the table, the dim light casting dark shadows across Vegeta's sharp features. His black brows were pulled together, fingers drumming restlessly on the wooden dinner table. The waiter had long since kept his distance, especially after he'd asked Vegeta if he was ready to order for the fourth time. If looks could burn holes the waiter would probably be nothing more than a pile of ash. He was waiting for his business associate. She was late. As always. Of course.

Punctuality was not Bulma Briefs strong suit. She was the most gorgeous thing on two legs (and he'd be damned if he EVER admitted that out loud) but hell did he hate how she always kept him waiting. They had an important business dealing to discuss and already forty minutes had been wasted. Growling, he pulled out his smart phone to see if she'd returned his last text. She hadn't.

"Woman, I swear on everything in me I will go to your house and drag you out screaming and naked."

He'd thought it at least made his point. Surprisingly, as he was watching the screen the response icon appeared, the tiny bubbles of her incoming text taunting him. The phone pinged with its arrival, and her answer made him roll his eyes:

"Is that a promise hot stuff? ;)"

Vegeta groaned. He HATED when she did that. He furiously text back, "Damnit Briefs you're almost an hour late. I've got shit to do tonight."

"Oh really, like what?"

His fingers stilled over the screen. She had him there. He lived alone and truth be told he would probably just watch tv and head to bed after jacking off. Bulma didn't need to know that though. "Since when is my personal life any of your business? Just get your late ass here already. I'm fucking starving."

"Rude. I'm speak-texting from my cars bluetooth. I'm parking right now. Order me a drink okay?"

"Gin and tonic, extra lemon."

"You know me so well ;)"

Vegeta was slightly unnerved that he knew her favorite drink by heart. He told himself it was because that's all she ever ordered; but that was far from the truth. Over the past year that they'd worked together, he found himself paying far much attention to her. More than he had any woman. He'd been hired as Capsule Corps private lawyer, and over the past year had worked pretty much solely with Dr. Briefs and his pesky daughter. Dr. Briefs was planning on retiring within the coming year and wanted to make sure that all of the I's were dotted and T's were crossed. Bulma was to be his successor and she'd be a damn good one in Vegeta's opinion.

That is if she could be on time for once in her life.

He waved the waiter back over, the young man turning a shade of green at finally being addressed by the dark haired stranger at the corner table.

"Gin and tonic, extra lemon," Vegeta muttered, "and make sure it's here within the next three minutes."

"I-I'll see what I can do-"

A twenty dollar bill was shoved into the waiters sweaty hand, "Three. Minutes." Vegeta punctuated, "Times ticking."

The poor server was practically trembling, "A-anything else for you sir?"

Vegeta pondered a moment, "Whiskey, on the rocks. There'll be another twenty if you can get those here in the two minutes and thirty-four seconds you have left."

Quicker than Vegeta had seen anyone move, the young man dashed towards the bar, nearly running into the blue haired woman who had just walked in the door.

Blue hair...

He would tell himself it was because he stood up to quick that his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't the tight fitting, knee length red dress she was wearing. It also wasn't the black shawl with fur lined hood framing her face. It wasn't the way she was shaking off her wet umbrella. And it CERTAINLY wasn't the way she looked around the restaurant, finally catching his eyes and grinning at him.

Nope. Not those things at all.

He put on his best scowl as she approached him, the gawking stares of other men in the restaurant unabashedly watching her rear end sway with every step she took in her black heels. To his secret, guilty pleasure however she paid them no mind. She was walking towards him alone. Her sky blue eyes locked on his black, full lips still smiling just for him-

"Bout fucking time." He snapped.

And the spell was broken.

Bulma's face fell, that tiny line he adored appearing between her eyebrows, "Well hello to you too, grouchy."

Inwardly he cursed himself. Having no filter was often more a curse than it was a blessing. Even though she was still frowning at him he edged around her to pull out her chair, "Was there traffic?" He asked gruffly.

"Some," she said, removing her shawl. Vegeta took it from her and laid it on top of his coat, "I got caught up in the lab earlier. And then I wanted to make sure I looked nice for our date."

Vegeta froze, mouth slacking. Bulma however was far more interested in the drink being placed in front of her, "Thank you!" She smiled at the server.

The whiskey was slid over to Vegeta, the waiter looking like he'd just run a marathon, "Sorry it's a minute late sir-"

Suddenly, Vegeta could hear again. He blinked, mumbled a few choice words and handed the man another twenty dollar bill.

Bulma sucked on the lemon wedge garnishing her glass, watching the exchange with great interest. After their server was gone, she raised a brow and asked "What was that about?"

"Just making sure we got the drinks quickly." Vegeta could feel his cheeks flushing, "Look, I'm sorry but did you call our business meeting a date?"

"Mmmhmmm," she mumbled around the lemon wedge she was still sucking on.

Suddenly Vegeta's neck felt hot, "Look Briefs, I don't known how you've deluded yourself into thinking this was anything but a meeting between two coworkers, but this is so not a date."

He was never quite sure how she did it, but Bulma always had this way of looking right through him. Being a good lawyer meant having a good poker face, and Vegeta always had believed his was the best in the business. It's how he acquired his own law firm at 25 and had been successful ever since. But this infuriating woman could see through him as easy as a pane on glass.

She removed the lemon wedge from her lips, smirk causing the corner of her mouth to turn up, "Really?"

"Yes woman," Vegeta hissed, "not every single man in the world has to fall at your feet. Your imagination is almost as big as your ego."

Frowning, Bulma dropped the drained lemon wedge on her napkin, "Hey no need to get nasty. Usually when you call me to a business meeting it's at the lab. Not some swanky restaurant. Forgive me for assuming this was supposed to be something else." She dropped her eyes back to the table, grabbing a complimentary piece of bread from the basket.

Vegeta exhaled through his nose. He and his big mouth. She had him there. When he needed to talk to her about something he would usually catch her in the lab. He wasn't lying when he said he had business things to discuss, but well...

He sighed, then reached out and grabbed the back support of her dinner chair, dragging the whole piece of furniture and Bulma closer to him. It made an obnoxious scraping noise, but he really didn't care. When she was within whispering range, he leaned over and muttered, "Sorry."

Her eyelashes were so long he realized as they blinked at him, the crinkles beside her eyes betraying her smile, "It's alright tough guy."

Vegeta allowed himself a small lip twitch. That is until a shaky voice on the other side of the table asked, "Are you ready to order-"

It was Bulma who spoke when she realized Vegeta's jaw muscle had tensed, "Just get us whatever the specials are tonight; he will have a beef item, rare and I'll have chicken if it's available."

The waiter, as if sensing his impending doom slowly backed away, not fully turning until he'd reached the kitchen.

Bulma pinched Vegeta's cheek, "Could you please try and not eat the wait staff? Poor guy looks like he's about to pee his pants."

Vegeta pulled his face away from her fingers, "it would serve that obnoxious little shit right. He's worse than a flea."

"Vegeta," she warned, "please be nice. For once?"

"Tch." He scowled and pulled out his phone, pulling up the business documents he needed to go over with her, "Whatever."

Bulma sighed, and then took a sip of her gin and tonic, "In any case, you look nice. I like you in navy. I've never seen that sweater before; is it new? Sure this isn't a date?"

Vegeta felt his blood pressure rising, the sweater was in fact new, "Woman please..."

"Just saying, you invite me to dinner which you've never done before..."

"Briefs I swear-"

"And you're dressed like a GQ model with that tight navy sweater and black pants..."

"Please stop talking now-"

"And you took my shawl for me..."

"I am never being nice to you again."

"You even know my favorite drink,"

"It's all you ever have when you drink alcohol."

"Pretty good memory if you ask me."

Vegeta scowled, cheeks burning bright red, "Anyways, here are the documents your father wanted you to look over." He slid his phone to her, "when you stop talking maybe we can actually get some work done."

Bulma sighed, then picked up the phone, "Fine, fine. Maybe you should start drinking. You'd be more fun then."

Eyes narrowed, Vegeta picked up his highball and took a sip. Bulma's gaze danced across the screen of his phone, finger brushing up so she could read the rest of the document. They were both silent for several minutes when he saw Bulma's eyes widen.

"What?" He asked.

She flipped the phone around, and Vegeta was horrified to see she was in his pictures folder. The image now on the screen was her, bent over in the lab studying a blueprint. Her long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen, face concentrated on whatever she was looking at.

Vegeta paled. He'd taken that the other day and obviously without her consent. She'd called him to say she'd bought him a sandwich and invited him down to eat. Vegeta never turned down food, or a chance to be with her whenever possible. She'd soon forgotten her own sandwich, getting wrapped up in her own brilliant mind and began redesigning a space pod. He watched her in content silence and thought she'd never looked more beautiful. So he secretly took a picture, obviously never imagining she would see it.

And now Bulma was staring at him with a confused expression and he guilty snatched the phone from her hand, shoving it in his pocket and looking away, "We're done here."

"Vegeta-"

He made a movement to get up, but stilled momentarily when he felt her grab his hand, "Vegeta, stop it." She insisted, "Can you quit trying to run away and talk to me?" The fingers on his hand tightened, and he slowly felt his resolve waning. What was he supposed to say? What did she want him to say? That she was right? Because she was, partly. He'd wanted to impress her, not necessarily on purpose but he figured having her alone for once might help. However, he was just a lawyer and former street kid. He'd brought himself up from nothing; had survived by the skin of his teeth doing less than legal things and the only thing that spurred him on was his pride.

She was the complete opposite. Bulma's family was wealthy and she was used to the best things in life. She could have anyone she wanted. What chance did he have with her? Why was he even trying? Eyes closed tightly, he made the hardest decision of his life and snatched his hand away and stormed out the door as Bulma looked on, hurt; the food just being brought out and laid onto the table.

The channels on the television flipped robotically, Vegeta not really watching anything. It had been a bad night. Already stripped out of that new sweater, he sat on the couch shirtless and in sweat pants. How could he face her in the morning? He'd already drafted a resignation letter, more than prepared to walk in and slam it down on her desk right when he walked through Capsule Corps door.

Temper flaring, he pitched the remote into the wall. The flimsy plastic broke apart, batteries flying across the room. He was such an idiot. He'd just ruined the best thing in his life in less than an hour. Vegeta supposed he could easily open his firms doors again and pray his reputation wouldn't be too soiled, but the promise of a paycheck was the furthest thing from his mind. All he really wanted was her, pressed up against his side as the two of them watched television together. His damn pride was his biggest asset and hinderance sometimes.

A light knock came on his front door.

His head turned slightly, brows furrowing. Who the hell would be knocking on his door at ten o clock at night? Beside him, his phone buzzed, the preview of a text flashing across he lock screen:

"Hey, open the door."

It was Bulma's name. His jaw tightened, hand twitching as he fought the urge to reply.

Bzz: "VEGETA, come on. Please?"

He exhaled through his nose and stormed to the door, throwing it open. There she was. Still in her red dress and shawl, a takeout bag in hand and his coat draped over her arm. She blinked, eyes roaming over his heavily muscled bare chest, "Oh, uh, hi."

Forearm pressed against the doorframe, he sighed, "What is it Briefs?"

Bulma cleared her throat, trying in vain to take her eyes off his muscles, "Uh, you forgot your jacket. And I got the food to go. Maybe we can eat it here and talk?"

"About what?"

Scowling, Bulma pushed past him and into the living room, "Please, can we not play this game anymore? It's getting old."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, but followed her to the couch where she had already started laying out the food on his coffee table, "Woman, this really isn't neces-"

"I didn't know you did jujitsu!" She interrupted, skittering off to look at a picture on his wall, "Wow! That explains the muscles. It looks like your standing with a big trophy! But who's that spikey haired guy with the bigger trophy -"

"Bulma," Vegeta hissed, "what the fuck are you doing here? It's late. I'm tired. And we have work in the morning."

She turned, hands on her hips, "You should have thought about that before you ran away from our date!"

"For the love of...Bulma it wasn't a date."

"Who do you think you're fooling?" Within a few steps she was in front of him, blue eyes burning into him, "Why would you invite me out to dinner? Why would you buy a new sweater? It still had the price tag on the back collar, so don't even pretend like you've had it forever. And why was there a picture of me in your phone?"

"Why the fuck were you going through my pictures anyway?" He growled, "You're looking far into it Briefs."

Bulma's sighed, "You're hopeless. You know that right?"

"It's for the best." He said coldly, "I have nothing to offer you anyway."

"You."

"What?"

Small tears were beginning to brim in Bulma's eyes, "There's you. You're smart, and cunning and even funny in you're own weird way. I see when we're in public places and you look only at me. And when we're in crowds you put your hand on the small of my back because you know I'll get lost."

Vegeta swallowed, suddenly feeling a stirring within himself. An uncomfortable, ripped open sensation.

Bulma continued, reaching out and touching Vegeta's sharp cheekbone, "I know how much work you have, but still you come visit me in the lab. You let me drunk text you and you always answer, even at three in the morning. Even if it's snarky I don't care, because it's you. I wish you could see what I see when you look at me. Because it's wonderful; you're wonderful."

Vegeta stood frozen, mind playing catch up with what she was saying, "So, you...think I'm tolerable?"

Choking out a laugh, Bulma nodded, "More often than not. But even when your an asshole I like you."

"You, like me?"

"Yes."

Vegeta blinked, "So..."

Bulma rolled her eyes, "Geeze Vegeta, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Spell what?"

Bulma wrapped both arms arms around his neck, and dragged his face down to meet hers.

Vegeta was instantly assaulted by her softness, the ghosting of lemon lingering on the pillow softness of her lips she was currently caressing against his.


	3. Chapter 3

Warm.

Her lips were so warm.

Slotted against his, Bulma's mouth felt like his missing puzzle piece. Never could Vegeta have imagined that this single action could cause his soul to swell beyond his body. Her arms were still locked around his neck, holding fast as though he would evaporate and vanish, or worse, just keep running away from her forever. Bulma was preventing this with every ounce of her strength, but what she didn't realize was that he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

Though his body was frozen in place, Vegeta's mind was a whirling dervish; torn between the primal urge to throw this beautiful creature over his shoulder and scream a victory cry, or collapse in the fetal position curled up against her and sob. It was leaning dangerously in favor of the collapse when she began to pull away from him. On their own accord, his lips helplessly trailed after her. Vegeta's eyes opened to find Bulma looking at him, lips slightly parted and flushed, "You okay?" She breathed.

All he could do was stare at her, chest shaking with each gulp of air. Was he having a heart attack? Is that what that fluttering in his heart meant?

"Vegeta?" Bulma was starting to look nervous, "Was that too much? Oh God, I'm so sorry," she stepped away from him, hands wringing nervously, "Damnit, I'm such an idiot."

Wait. What?

Bulma sniffed, wiping the corner of one eye, "I'm so, so sorry. I crossed the line. God, I hope you can forgive me."

She was gathering her shawl. Now she was putting it on. Was she leaving? No! This wasn't what was supposed to happen!

Her back was to him, head bowed as she picked up her keys from their place on the kitchen counter, "If you never want to speak to me again, I understand." Her well manicured fingers were on the door knob, turning it and pulling the door open.

He should move. He should be running. Why wasn't he? He wanted her. She in some capacity wanted him. The overwhelming feelings inside him must have short circuited something. Vegeta's brain was screaming at his useless extremities to do something, anything, but before he could his apartment door was wide open.

She was looking at him over her shoulder in the doorway, sky blue eyes filled with tears, "Sorry," she whispered again, and then closed the door behind her.

Vegeta was still as a statue, staring in quiet disbelief at the now empty place where Bulma had stood. Gone. She was gone.

And it was his fault.

He had fucked everything up.

Why didn't he respond? Why didn't he stop her? All it would have taken was a word, a kiss from him, anything...

An ache started in his jaw; he realized he was grinding his teeth together. Vegeta needed something, anything to set his mind straight. Almost robotically he picked up a discarded t shirt from his floor, snatched his own keys and stormed out of the apartment and down the stairs, scrolling with near desperation through his recent calls.

A ring came through the speakers, once, twice, three times before a sleepy voice answered:

"'Geets? What's-"

"Kakarot, gym. Now."

"Wha-now? It's almost eleven..."

Vegeta hung up; he knew his sparring partner would come. He always did. The need to pound out his confused feelings was outweighing any other desire at this point, and he knew that before he faced Bulma, he had to face himself first.

The moment Goku walked into the gym he knew something was wrong.

Vegeta was throttling a punching bag, which in itself wasn't that odd, but the blood smears across the surface of it gave the normally flippant man pause. His gym buddy always had a routine: be ten minutes early, drink a bottle of water, wrap his knuckles, and then do work. The fact that Vegeta had missed part of his ritual let Goku know that it was going to be a long night.

Instead of greeting the smaller man with a clap on the shoulder like he normally did, Goku walked to the opposite end of the bag and held it steady, giving a small nod and let Vegeta continue his assault. No words were exchanged for the rest of the session. Though Goku knew he wasn't the smartest when it came to traditional education, he at least had the common sense to realize that whatever Vegeta was going through had him hot and bothered. And a hot and bothered Vegeta was a dangerous one. The lawyer had a reputation still, even though his teen years were long gone.

When they were younger, the two had run wild across the city together. While Goku had his grandfather to lean on and didn't purposefully(that being the key word) get into trouble, Vegeta sought it out. Desperate, almost anxious for any kind of attention Vegeta had managed to get into more scrapes than anyone thought humanly possible. Goku had felt a certain responsibility to the older, flame-haired youth despite other people's grumblings and curses. All had given up on Vegeta.

Except for Goku.

Or, 'Kakarot' as Vegeta referred to him. He'd always wondered why 'Geets never referred to him as the name he was best known by. There had always been the allusion that the smaller man knew more about Goku's past that he let on. Maybe Kakarot was his birth name. Goku had known he was adopted from very early on and didn't really care. His happy-go-lucky attitude had gotten him out of some tough situations and thrown into others. All the while the man on the other side of the punching bag had been by his side, either fighting with him or punching Goku in the face.

Friendship was complicated.

After some pretty heavy sparring and about two hours later, Goku laid back on the mat and puffed out a breath of air, "I'm throwin' in the towel. Chichi was already mad when I left. Any longer and I'm sure I'll be in for it." He raised his head, only to see Vegeta leaned back against the wall looking at the floor.

"Fine. Goodnight, Kakarot."

Odd, Goku thought. No calling him weak for going home? "Hey man, whatever is-"

"Shut up." Vegeta interrupted, crossing his arms, "just, don't say anything. It's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothin'," Goku said, rolling onto his knees, "but, whatever is going on, you can figure it out, ya' know? You've had worse."

Vegeta snorted, but at least he was looking at him now, "You're an optimistic fool."

Chuckling, Goku rubbed the back of his neck and picked up his gym bag, "Well, better to be optimistic than sulk ya' know? Sulking doesn't get ya' anything. It just makes ya' feel worse. At least havin' faith gives ya' something to look forward too, instead of deciding you've already quit. And you're not a quitter, 'Geets."

"Pfft." Shaking his head, Vegeta smirked, "Like I said, optimistic fool."

The larger man shrugged, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder, "Well, somethin' has gotten' ya' this far hasn't it? Anyways, see ya' Tuesday?"

Vegeta nodded, picking up his cell phone from the top of his gym bag. After a few seconds of staring at it he grunted and put it back down. Goku smiled knowingly, "It's that girl, isn't it? The picture on your phone you're always lookin' at?"

"GOODNIGHT Kakarot."

Goku chuckled, "Alright, alright. Night." And with a wave over his shoulder, he exited though the gym doors into the evening air, leaving Vegeta perplexed as to how someone so spacey could leave him feeling more grounded than anyone.

The apartment was dead silent when he entered, the air smelling of the food Bulma had brought over from the restaurant. He'd forgotten about it, and it sat tepid and abandoned on the coffee table. Vegeta swallowed, then turned down the hallway towards his room. He didn't want to deal with that tonight. Maybe in the morning.

Showering with the water as cold as possible distracted his mind, but that only lasted for as long as the shower did. The moment he stepped out, the heaviness settled back into his thoughts. Maybe sleep would help.

After laying awake and staring at the ceiling for half-an-hour, he realized that it would only be her that occupied his dreams that night. And that made him uncomfortable. What were his feelings for her? Bulma was very pretty, so there was that, obviously. And she was smart. And kind to him, as he was to her. The fact that he'd never once turned her away made him realize that he was far more attached to her than previously believed.

His phone was charging on the nightstand beside him. She hadn't text him. Not once. The two would normally text until she fell asleep. It made him feel hollow inside without that contact.

Vegeta reached for the phone and sent a quick text:

"I can't sleep."

Quickly, he put the phone back on the nightstand, tucking his hands behind his head. Why was his heart racing?

A minute went by.

Then two.

Then five.

He picked his phone back up, then opened his messages. It said the text had been read.

But she hadn't responded.

Vegeta's gut churned. Bulma always responded to his texts. Why hadn't she? Was she angry with him? She had every right to be if he was being honest with himself. What a selfish asshole he was. She'd thrown herself at him, and what did he do? Gawked at her like some clueless, love sick teenager-

Love sick.

Oh. Oh no.

Then the incoming text bubble appeared. Vegeta inhaled loudly, sitting straight up in bed, completely transfixed at the silly gray bubbles. She was responding. Everything would be alright.

Then it disappeared.

And he waited, the minutes ticking by.

The clock on his phone hit three Am. An hour had passed.

Vegeta settled back on his pillow, eyes growing heavy, still watching that text screen.

When the sun began rising he was fast asleep, phone held tightly against his chest, just in case it vibrated against him.


	4. Chapter 4

When the phone alarmed against him Vegeta awoke faster than he ever had in his life. Before he'd even wiped the sleep from his eyes he quickly shut off the alarm and checked his texts:

Nothing.

Bulma always text him good morning. It was so routine he didn't realize that not seeing it would cause these torrent of emotions. Resisting the urge to throw his phone Vegeta instead exhaled through his nose, threw the covers off and stormed to his closet.

The hollow, empty feeling in his chest from the night before still lingered, and for once his morning run could not come fast enough. Every day at 6:45 am Vegeta would throw on his trainers and take a five mile trot around the city. Thankfully, it was Saturday so he could easily avoid Capsule Corp and the blue haired distraction he was sure would be walking around. Bulma was always there, day off or not tinkering with her inventions. Her dedication to her craft was one of the many things Vegeta admired about her, and more than anything he wished he knew what was going on in that brain of hers. He had surely acted the fool last night, but he couldn't have messed up that badly.

Could he?

Still ignoring the food on the table, Vegeta left his apartment. He opted to take the stairs down to the first floor, the sound of his shoes echoing off the concrete walls.

The brisk morning air burned his lungs, the ear buds blasting music into his brain. For a few blissful minutes he thought about nothing except the pavement pounding under the soles of his shoes and his breathing. This was his therapy. All his life Vegeta had felt like he was running; usually it was away from his troubles. It worked for certain things, but in the last twenty four hours it had caused him nothing but trouble. Coffee. He needed coffee. His favorite coffee shop was just three blocks away. His caffeine fix was growing closer. That would make this awkward day somewhat easier.

Or so he thought until the he saw her entering the crosswalk.

What was she doing in this part of town?

Her manicured hands were clutching two cups of coffee, the expression of her face distracted. Bulma was just getting into the middle of the intersection heading his way. Had she grabbed a cup for him? Part of him selfishly hoped so. Why else would she be walking in the direction of his apartment? Vegeta's running pace decreased, heart pounding instead of slowing with his milder movement. Finally, Bulma seemed to realize there were eyes on her, and looked up.

Her face seemed to brighten when she noticed Vegeta nearing her, and while she wasn't smiling she didn't look displeased to see him.

His feet were still moving although it was now a slow jog. He was maybe fifteen paces from her. Bulma was almost to his side of the street, her own walk quickening.

A car horn blaring suddenly filled Vegeta's ears, the screeching of tires causing goose flesh to rise on his arms.

Three paces left.

The shiny black sedan that had run the red light was in his field of vision, Bulma's head turning to her right to watch the vehicle barreling towards her. She had stopped moving, mouth open and body frozen.

For Vegeta, time slowed. He had already reached her by this point and was now on top of her, wrapping his arms protectively around her body and twisting her to the left. Arms locked tightly in that moment he wanted nothing more to keep holding her, to tell her he was sorry for last night, to maybe kiss her again, but instead he let her go and shoved as hard as he could. Bulma sprawled onto the sidewalk just as Vegeta felt the vehicle impact on his hip. The world flipped over and over as he was thrown, an unnerving sense of calm enveloping him. Bulma was safe, Vegeta thought. That was all that mattered. He hoped she didn't hate him still. Did she know how he felt?

How he felt...

He...

Then all feeling came to a crashing halt as his cheek hit the concrete.

Before the world went black, Vegeta's vision was filled with the blue of Bulma's eyes staring at him in horror, and the sound of his name being screamed.

"Keep driving, damnit!" The front seat passenger hissed, looking over his shoulder through the back window as the black sedan raced through the street and into a back alleyway. There was already a crowd of people gathering in a circle around the downed man, the target of their un-executed hit wailing his name and crying, "I can't believe you fucking missed!" The man snarled, slapping the driver in the temple.

"Ouch! Zarbon, I didn't count on that guy pushing her out of the way!" Dodoria whined.

From the darkened backseat, their boss chuckled, "Would you two children stop fighting? Do you have any idea who you just ran over? Oh, it was so sweet I can still taste it."

Both henchmen in the front seat quieted, looking first at one another, then the one named Zarbon looking back at the shaded figure, "No boss, who?"

Another chuckle, "That was Vegeta you fools."

Zarbon's mouth fell open, "Wha- that was little monkey?"

"Yes," the voice from the backseat was dripping with pleasure, "the street urchin all grown up. Serves him right for what he did to my father. That was far more pleasurable than running over the interfering bimbo."

"But boss," Dodoria spoke up, "what about the Briefs lady? Should we-"

"No," the voice snapped, "not yet. Hopefully that speed bump will die and she will disappear for a bit. Then we can make our move."

The vehicle eventually came to a stop in front of a warehouse, two henchmen running out to guard the garage door as it rose and the car disappeared inside. Zarbon and Dodoria exited the front seats once it was placed in park, and a man with an unsightly orange tan and bleached white hair appeared. He opened the back passenger door and out stepped a small, white figure, far smaller than anyone around him.

The small man adjusted his dress shirt cuff, "Jeice, I'll need the receipts from collection this afternoon."

"Yes sir." Jeice's Australian accent quivered as he handed his boss a thick booklet, "All counted and ready Mr. Frieza."

Frieza smirked, thumbing through the thin sheets, "Excellent. You've done well. Make sure you burn the car. Use the good incinerator. I don't want a single trace left behind. I'm trusting you to do this. Understood?"

Jeice nodded, shoulders relaxing, "Yes sir."

The new crime lord of the Icejin known as Frieza took his leave then, heading up the stairs to his penthouse suite, Zarbon following close behind.

"Make sure Jeice is in the car when the fire starts." Frieza muttered over his shoulder, "The booklet is missing pages. No one cheats me."

Zarbon smirked, "Whatever you wish, sir." Then pulled out his cell phone.

Frieza would watch his demand come to fruition a short time later on his security television while sitting in a plush chair, drinking a fine glass of wine with his first in command by his side.

"Pity," Zarbon sighed, the vehicle becoming engulfed in flames on the monitor, "I liked that car."

"Yes well," Frieza chuckled as Jeice's muffled screams came through the speakers, "I'll get you another. Tell me Zarbon, do you think he will be crippled?"

"Jeice, sir?"

"No," Frieza said darkly, "the little monkey. I hope he cannot walk and pisses himself. I hope he suffers so that death will be a reprieve. And then, when he can no longer stand his miserable existence I wish he dies alone, like he always has been. He ruined my family, put my father in jail, and then became a goody-goody working for that company. Who could have believed such a thing! He had such potential back then. With Capsule Corp growing the way it has I thought taking care of the inventors daughter would solve all our problems, but this is almost sweeter, don't you agree?" He smirked at Zarbon, who had gone slightly pale, "I thought Vegeta was no longer an issue with his office being closed down and all, but, ho ho with he pushing Briefs out of the way and the look on that her face it would say otherwise. I hope he's not dead just yet, because I think there are far worse ways to kill a person without their life being ended. Don't you agree?"

Swallowing, Zarbon nodded, "Of course, sir." He took another sip of wine, watching with a new, strange sense of unease as the interior of the car on television erupted into flames, the screams from within going silent.


	5. Chapter 5

When Bulma was five years old she'd broken her arm, stupidly believing she could fly from the tree in her front yard to her bedroom window. Her frantic parents had driven her to the emergency room where the stench of sterilization was overwhelming, the sounds of a routine day in the hospital frightening her small being to the core. To this day she could remember the lights above her as she sat trembling on the stiff bed, arm throbbing as her mother fussed over her. Bulma still hated anything to do with the doctors office, and the smell of sterilization products made her stomach churn.

But here she was, stuck in a small waiting room wondering if one of the people she cared about most would die.

Her knee bounced in a nervous rhythm, eyes swollen and red from sobbing. This was her fault. Vegeta was hurt, seriously so, and he did it for her. She should be the one in there. She should have been the one hit by that car. Maybe if she had paid more attention crossing the street this wouldn't have happened. Maybe If she'd answered his text the night before they could have met up that next morning and avoided everything all together. They could have talked it out and everything would have been fine. But no. She had to be stubborn. Her heart had ached for him last night; he'd looked so handsome and her feelings had gotten the best of her. In one fleeting moment she'd pushed Vegeta just a bit more than his stoic countenance could handle. She'd taken the initiative and his rejection hurt. Deeply. But that didn't mean she didn't still care for him. Quite the opposite in fact.

It was well known in their city that Bulma Briefs was a lot to handle. She'd had several high profile relationships that had crashed and burned; spectacularly. Vegeta was the only man in her life besides her father that treated her like a human being. He didn't care if her clothes were expensive, and frequently called her out on her tantrums. Despite his grumblings, sarcastic comments, and all around prickly nature, deep down Bulma knew he cared for her. She'd never seen him behave with such patience towards anyone, and the thought that he'd taken her place in front of that car without hesitation made her guts wrench painfully.

When the ambulance arrived only a few moments after the accident she had thrown herself into the back alongside his gurney, watching with horror as he was pricked and examined, the paramedics giving nervous glances at one another. The sirens screamed and the van bounced down the road, but all Bulma could focus on was Vegeta's still body. One of the paramedics asked her questions, but all she could hear was buzzing. There was no doubt she was in a mild state of shock, and once they had reached the hospital she had to be steered out of the back and into the hospital waiting room where she had now been sitting for several hours. Whenever the door opened she'd stand, only to feel disappointment crashing over her like a tidal wave when it was just another person like her, waiting for news.

Another hour passed before the door opened, and in stepped an older man in a white lab coat, "Miss Briefs?"

Bulma's hand immediately covered her heart for fear it would pound out of her chest, "Yes, that's me. How is he? Will he be alright-"

"He's okay," the doctor said gently, sitting beside her, "somehow he's not catastrophically injured. He's got a small hairline fracture on his pelvic bone that will heal on its own and we believe a concussion. Not to mention he's banged up with bruises and a bit of road rash. But he will be just fine given some serious rest."

The breath in Bulma's lungs left with a whoosh, "Oh thank God, thank you, thank you."

"Quite a miracle really," the doctor mused, patting Bulma's shoulder, "if that young man wasn't in such great physical shape the story would have been much different. I've seen milder accidents that result in a lot worse. He's a bit drowsy from the pain medication, but you're more than welcome to visit him if you like. He was asking about you."

"H-he was?"

"Mmmhmm," the doctor nodded, "he wanted to make sure you were alright. He woke up in quite a foul mood once we had him on the examination table. Said something about smashing my brains in if I did anything to you."

"Oh Vegeta," Bulma groaned, "I'm so sorry. He's got a bit of a temper."

The doctor chuckled, "No harm done. Once we had that IV in him he was a little more compliant. He's in room 203, down the hall to the left. Take care of him alright? No physical activity for a few weeks; period. And he will have to have a check up here in about five days to look at that bump on his head."

Bulma nodded, "Thank you so much sir. I'll make sure of it."

"Alright then," the doctor stood, shaking Bulma's hand, "he's a good man Miss Briefs, he did a very brave thing from what I hear. Not many people I know would sacrifice themselves like that. Even when we were telling him what was going on with his injuries, all he was asking for was 'my Bulma.' I'm not exactly sure what your relationship is, but I thought you should know. Good day Miss."

Bulma watched the doctors back as the door closed, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.

"My Bulma." He'd said.

Despite the awful nature of the situation, Bulma felt her lips pull up in a smile and the happy tears began to fall. He was going to be alright. Her surly, grouchy Vegeta was going to be fine.

Her body froze. 'Her Vegeta.'

Oh. She had it bad.

Before she could muse any longer, Bulma finally gathered the courage to step out into the hallway, praying that he wouldn't turn her away once she reached him. Although she couldn't blame him if he did. It was her turn to take care of him now, and she intended to do just that.

Vegeta glared at the nurse beside his bed. "I said take out these IV's. I don't need them."

"Sir," the young female crooned kindly, "you've had a nasty accident. I can't take these out unless the doctor okays it first."

"Well," he hissed through clenched teeth, "get the doctor then. I don't need to be here-"

He stopped when he heard the choked sob in the doorway.

It was Bulma.

The nurse looked from Vegeta, to her, then back to him, "I'll be back in a short while." She said gently, and then eased around Bulma who was still standing by the door.

Vegeta stared hard at her, scrutinizing every piece of her visible skin for injuries. She looked alright physically he decided, but her red face and puffy eyes spoke volumes. He swallowed, looking off to the side at the white linoleum floor, "You look like hell." He muttered.

Bulma choked back a wet laugh, "You big, dumb idiot. You're one to talk. God you're so scraped up..."

He finally looked back at her when she started sobbing again, arm trying to cover her face so he couldn't see her tears, "V-Vegeta, I was so s-scared. I-I thought-"

"Are you going to come here or what?"

The arm covering her eyes went down. Bulma was sure she looked like a mess, but the gentleness of his words made her not care, "W-what?"

Vegeta sighed and winced, adjusting himself to sit up straighter, "Bulma, I can't really get up to go to you. Come here."

Within a few steps she was standing beside the bed, arms hugging herself tightly, "Vegeta, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't done, well, you know what last night none of this would have happened. I hope you can forgive me-"

He held up a hand to quiet her, "Bulma, stop. None of this is your fault,"

"Yes it is," she hiccuped, sinking into the chair beside his bed, face in her hands, "you c-could have died. I would have never been able to forgive myself. If you never want to s-speak to me again I understand," Bulma's words were broken again by her sobs, her whole body seeming to shrink as she hunched over.

For a long moment Vegeta was quiet, letting Bulma expel her overwhelming emotions. It was not in Vegeta's nature to be nurturing. It was hard for him to give something he didn't seem to have. He'd never grown up with compassion, no one to run to when he felt afraid. There was no one in his life he would lay down his for.

No one except her.

As if he were petting a frightened animal, he reached out with trepidation and rested his large hand on top of Bulma's head. She quieted, eyes barely visible through the curtain of her hair as she peeked out and sniffed pitifully at him.

Vegeta swallowed. Fuck. She was beautiful. Slowly, he brushed her hair down, tucking it gently behind her ear, "Bulma, I really don't know what to say," he rumbled, "unfortunately for you, I'm pretty indestructible. The doctors said so. The bump on my skull didn't scramble my brains enough make me a romantic imbecile which is really a shame."

She blinked at him, "Are you seriously making jokes right now?"

Vegeta smirked, "Depends. Is it working?"

"Damnit Vegeta," Bulma groaned, plopping her forehead on his mattress, "you're crazy. You know that right?"

"I've been told," he continued to pet her hair, "I'm really no good at this. What can I do?"

"You've done enough!" Bulma snapped, raising her head up. Startled, Vegeta snatched his hand back. "You threw yourself in front of a car for me! I care about you, you big oaf! I don't know what I would do without you! I owe you my life!"

"You don't owe me anything," Vegeta insisted, but Bulma continued;

"I am going to make it up to you. I swear it. And I promise I won't..." she trailed off blushing, "I mean, what I did last night was inappropriate. I shouldn't have done that. It won't happen again."

Vegeta felt his jaw drop, a surprising wave of disappointment washing over him, "Bulma-"

"I was way too forward," she continued over him, "I must have made myself look like such a hoochie-"

"Bulma-"

"Especially when I know you have no interest in me, you said so yourself and I kept pushing-"

Frustration finally reaching its peak, Vegeta snarled, "Bulma Briefs will you stop talking and listen to me?! How can I tell you I want you-"

"I hear someone wants their IV's out." A voice came from the foot of the bed.

Both Vegeta and Bulma's head whipped around to see the smirking doctor.

The doctor pulled out Vegeta's chart and leisurely thumbed through it, happily ignoring the two pairs of eyes on him, "Sorry to tell you sir, but we're going to have to keep you overnight for observation. It's that darn bump on your head. I'll see if I can get you going first thing in the morning if everything goes well."

If Vegeta had his way, the doctors lab coat would be tied in a knot around his stupid smug neck, "Is. That. All?" He hissed.

"Yup," the doctor put the cart back into the holder, "sorry about the news. Good thing you have this pretty young thing to keep you company." He winked, "Miss Briefs you have a nice evening."

"You too sir." Bulma smiled. The doctor waved on his way out the door, the eyes of Vegeta burning an imaginary hole in his back.

"Well, isn't he so sweet?" Bulma smiled, "What was it you were saying?"

Vegeta growled and flopped back against his pillow, "Just...forget it. I'm tired."

"Oh no, is it your head? Does it hurt?" Bulma asked. She placed her palm against his forehead, the skin of her hand cooling his hot flesh.

The contact almost made Vegeta purr, "A little." He grumbled.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Her fingers began running through his thick black hair; if she kept this up he might fall asleep.

"Mm no." He muttered, eyes becoming half-lidded.

"Do you want me to go so you can sleep?" She whispered.

His eyes, dark as the night sky slid to meet her worried gaze, "You can do what you want."

Her bow lips pulled into a line, the crease he adored between her eyebrow appearing. She was weighing her options. Vegeta let his eyes drift shut, "I don't mind... if you want to stay." He finally admitted, "if you want too."

He could hear the smile in her voice, "Okay. I'll stay until your fast asleep."

"...ok."

The chair creaked as she settled farther in, removing her fingers from his hair and instead slipping them into his hand, "You don't mind, do you?"

Vegeta didn't open his eyes, but squeezed her fingers in reply.

Bulma squeezed back.

It was the last thing he was aware of for quite some time.

Evening had fallen, the crisp night air blowing the long hair at Zarbon's neck. He'd come back to the scene where about ten hours earlier Vegeta was run over. Something had been nagging him.

And it was Vegeta's act of selflessness.

This was not the little monkey he knew. Vegeta had been scrappy and cruel; certainly not the type of person to push some woman out of the way of a car. It was well established in the syndicate community that Vegeta had gone rogue some time ago, deciding to live a "normal life" instead of considering rising in the ranks of the Icejin. How had that ungrateful worm repaid everyone? Put Friezas' father in prison. Oh, he'd certainly defended quite a few of the low level gangsters, but only a handful had gotten off. The rumor was that Vegeta had worked with the police. But because of that no one dared touch the once dangerous man who was now a goody-goody. It was risky. It was-

A glint in the corner of a building caught Zarbon's attention. When he looked closer, he realized it was a cell phone. The black smart phone had a crack on the screen, but the wallpaper picture still lit up bright and clear.

It was a woman with long blue hair piled on top of her head. She was leaning over a table and looking at something. It was Bulma Briefs. And there was only one reason she would be the background of Vegeta's phone.

Zarbon smiled.

Oh yes. This was exactly what he needed.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun streaming in through the hospital room window laid directly across Vegeta's closed eyelids. The migraine once forgotten in an IV drug induced sleep began to slither its way back into consciousness, and foggily, Vegeta cracked his right eye open.

Fuck.

This felt like the worst hangover of his life.

He groaned, the one open eye looking towards Bulma's chair. The heart monitor sounded loudly when Vegeta realized it was now empty. She wasn't here, where had she gone? There was mention of her leaving when he fell asleep but he thought-

"Morning sleepy head!"

Both eyes open wide now, Vegeta's blips on the monitor lessened as Bulma came in from the hallway, two takeaway cups of coffee in hand, "I thought you would appreciate some caffeine. God knows I needed it, those chairs are uncomfortable."

"You stayed?" He asked, or well, barked really.

Bulma regarded him, head lilting to one side, "Yeeeees... I fell asleep pretty soon after you did."

"Oh." Vegeta's cheeks went hot, fists bunching in the sheets, "Okay."

"Were you worried I left?" She teased, her eyes sparkling with something mischievous as she handed him his cup.

Grumbling, Vegeta sipped at his coffee. It was extra-hot cafeteria garbage, but it would do. "No," he finally said. But the way he stared at her up through his lashes made Bulma's heart race just a bit.

"I think you're lying," she smirked, settling back in her chair.

"Mpf." Vegeta took another drink.

"Did you know you sleep talk?"

A spurt of coffee shot from Vegeta's lips, almost reaching the foot of the bed. Bulma squealed, recoiling as far as she could away from any spray. Vegeta looked at her in horror, "What did I say?!"

Bulma blushed.

Oh shit.

She cleared her throat and rolled her eyes, "Don't worry doofus, it wasn't anything bad. You're intense even when you sleep. It was mostly a bunch of meat head gym talk."

"...mostly?" Vegeta hissed, "What else?"

Bulma shrugged, sipping at her own coffee, "Gibberish I think. Just random words strung together."

The blush was still on her cheeks, so Vegeta knew she was lying, "If I... said anything offensive...I apologize." He muttered, arms crossing.

"Naw," she patted his tense forearm, "I promise. It was just some random words." Her touch on his tan skin was warm, comforting. The primal section of his brain, normally so well hidden under his stony exterior was growling to life; wondering how her entire naked body would feel pressed tightly against his in this cramped hospital bed-

"Well young man, are you ready to go home?" Came an overly chipper voice from the doorway.

Well, damnit.

The same doctor who had interrupted them yesterday smiled warmly at Bulma, "Good morning my dear! Did you sleep well?"

Bulma shot a meaningful glance at Vegeta, playful smile on her lips, "As well as I could with Mr. Sleep Talker here."

Vegeta groaned.

Chuckling, the doctor passed Vegeta a clipboard, "Here you are son, just a few signatures and you're out of here. Take care of him, alright Miss Briefs?" He winked.

"Of course!" Bulma chirped, standing and clapping her hands together, "I'm going to call and get one of my drivers here right away! Thank you for taking good care of him sir!" She pulled her cellphone out of her pocket, already dialing as she stepped out of the room.

The two men watched her leave in silence. With a few pen scrawls, Vegeta signed his name and held out the clipboard to the doctor, "Here."

Slowly, the doctor turned back to him. And the look he gave Vegeta made his blood run cold. But as quickly as the look was there, it was gone. The doctor smiled, taking the clipboard from Vegeta's now sweaty hand, "Thanks young man. I'll send the nurse up to get everything unhooked and you'll be on your way in no time."

Vegeta's dark brows knitted together as the doctor waved over his shoulder and was gone.

"Woman, for Christs' sake I don't need a wheelchair!"

"You have a fractured pelvis! Yes you do!" Bulma insisted, pushing the chair closer to the bed, "The doctor said you needed your rest! And even if it kills you, I'm going to make sure you get all the rest you need!"

He scoffed, "I think you said that wrong."

"Oh, did I?" Bulma challenged, "Try me."

How he couldn't refuse her, Vegeta would never know. But as the wheelchair bearings squealed in agony as he was slowly pushed downstairs all he wanted to do was be unconscious again. Out of every Goddamn wheelchair in the entire hospital, how did he wind up in the one with the death scream? It felt like brain-stabbing hours, but eventually they made it outside and to the taxi ready to take Vegeta home. He shakily pushed himself up, definitely unsteadier than he was used to. There was a firm grip on his elbow, and he shot a glare at Bulma who was trying to assist him, "I'm fine." He growled.

But Bulma's eyes were gentler than he expected them to be, "Please," She said, "let me feel helpful."

He sighed, but didn't shake her off.

From several stories up, blue eyes watched as his now former patient was loaded up by the air headed woman. The doctor pulled out his cell phone, went to recent calls, and dialed a number. It picked up on the third ring:

"Ah, Dr. Gero," drawled a high pitch male voice, "he's been released I take it? Is the woman with him?"

"Yes Frieza," Dr. Gero said, "I've taken copies of his records. We have his address."

A chuckle from the other side of the phone, "Excellent. Pass it on to the kids. Nice work."

The call ended with a click, and Dr. Gero watched the taxi pull away. He really did like the Briefs woman. It was just a pity she kept such poor company. But, business was business. Vegeta had to be punished, and in turn, so did she.

Lapis and Lazuli would at least be entertained.


End file.
